"I think I'm waterlogged," Buffy complained as Giles closed the door to the flat, which they'd decided was the better option, given that there were no dry clothes for Giles at Buffy's house, and this way Dawn's sleep would also remain undisturbed.

He looked down at the drips pooling at her feet, and his. "I think we both are," he agreed, frowning when he realized she was shivering. "I'm going upstairs to get us some dry clothes. You can't wait until you get home. You'll catch your death."

Buffy didn't argue.

Giles came back down with a sweatshirt and some dry blue jeans for himself and a fleecy-lined sweat and grey track-pants for Buffy over one arm. "They'll be rather large, but I can have your clothes dried in the dryer not too long after you shower."

"I'm showering...here?"

"Well, I intend to, and I'm not making you wait until I'm done. Ladies first."

"Giles..."

He touched her cheek again with his free hand. "I'll still be here, afterward," he said perceptively. "Nothing will have changed...I promise."

She pressed her face into his fingers for a brief moment, then rolled her eyes up to meet his. "Is it...is it *real*?"

His handsome face creased into a gentle smile and he nodded. "And it will still be real when you're warm and dry again."

Buffy felt a little like Alice in Wonderland: a little lost and rather small as she set the shower going and stripped in Giles' bathroom, before climbing into the big tub amidst the clouds of steam. Her hair was already plastered to her head, so there was no point in worrying about getting it wet. She dove under the blissful stream of hot water and let the heat take the chill from her bones as her mind crept back to savour the moment in which her life had just changed...perhaps forever.

When she emerged, tired, but rosy and warm, her hair combed back and Giles' too-big clothes bundled on her, she looked young and vulnerable and as far from being the Chosen as Giles could possibly imagine.

"Better?" he asked, more to give himself a moment to collect his thoughts, than because it required an answer.

She nodded and smiled, trying not to notice that Giles had already shed his wet shirt, shoes and socks. An almost impossible proposition, given that the last time she saw him without a shirt was the first time she'd *really* seen him: the first time she'd looked at him and seen someone other than her Watcher; other than books and research, or training or...or a walking security blanket, she told herself honestly.

It excited and terrified her at the same time to look at him and feel both attraction and...desire. There...she'd actually let herself form the thought and her head hadn't exploded...nor for that matter, had any other bits...yet. At that point she finally made herself speak.

"You should go get warm and dry, yourself." It was then she noticed that his jeans were so wet they were clinging to everything. "Those pants are saturated. They're stick...er...stu...ah, you should get them off as soon as you can," she said quickly and then turned bright red.

He laughed softly. "You're probably right," he said affably and wandered off toward the bathroom.

When he finally returned, clad only in jeans, Buffy was curled up in his chair, one of his motorcycle magazines on her lap, and out to it like a light.

He finished towelling off his damp hair and pulled on the sweatshirt, rolling it down onto his hips before turning for the kitchen.

A little while later Buffy roused to the touch of a strong finger against her cheek. Her eyes came wide open when she realized that Giles was there, smiling at her. Little more than a beat later, she remembered where she was and why, and straightened in her chair, alert and aware again as was the wont of the Slayer, who had to be prepared for anything, though her face remained both rosy and sleepy.

Giles handed her a mug of hot chocolate from the coffee table and sat down on the couch next to her with a cup of tea, the aroma of which Buffy savoured as she sipped her own drink. It was one that went right back to their earliest days: something forever associated with him...after the books and the tweed, the Gilesmobile and the suspenders had come and gone, it was still the one thing that was irrevocably *Giles*.

When the silence went on too long and she couldn't stand it any longer, Buffy put down her cup and slid out of her chair.

At her movement, Giles put his down also and looked up at her curiously, saw her expression and immediately rose to face her, looking perhaps even more un-Giles like with his towelled, but damp hair, slim fitting jeans and for once, a fitted, collared sweatshirt instead of yet another one of his horrible baggy sweaters.

Wordlessly, Buffy slid her arms around his neck, gratified when he instinctively slid his own down her body and lifted her once again, enough so that her mouth was almost level with his and her slender body enfolded against him.

She kissed his chin, then his nose before sighing happily. "That's better."

"Mmm, so much better..." he agreed hoarsely, pulled her even closer, and bent his head.

It was a long time before either of them surfaced again. Neither really wanted to, but they both knew they had to get back to Revello drive before Dawn woke up and found the place empty.

Giles allowed Buffy to slide down to light gently on the floor, trying to ignore the delicious sensation of body slipping against body.

Buffy missed him almost immediately.

"Responsibility sucks," she grouched.

Giles agreed fervently but restricted himself to bending and brushing her lips again so that she finally favoured him with another smile.

"I'll get our clothes."

The early morning was surprisingly lovely, given that everything was wet. The front had passed and the sun was shining, making the moisture glisten and the air crisp. The drive back to Buffy's house was short, too short for the occupants of the BMW.

Dawn was in the shower when they crept in the front door and straight through to start breakfast.

Giles took charge of the coffee, tea and toast while Buffy busied herself with making pancakes, so that when Dawn came downstairs it seemed like a perfectly normal morning.

She sniffed. "Cool. We haven't had pancakes in weeks. So where were you guys?"

Both Giles and Buffy froze at the same moment, making a comical picture.

Dawn giggled. "I'm not twelve any more. Buffy's bed hasn't been slept in. That means patrol or trouble, neither of which you guys bothered to leave a note about."

"You weren't...worried?" Buffy asked tentatively.

"Sure I was worried, but c'mon, you're the Slayer. It's what you do. And Giles was either gonna be out with you or home. Either way he's gonna be safe, right?"

Both Giles and Buffy let out long sighs and their bodies visibly relaxed. As simplistic as it was, it was reassuring and made sense to Dawn, and that was all that mattered.

"In that case, have you decided where you'd like to go this afternoon?" Giles inquired as he placed a mug of hot chocolate in front of her.

"Oh." Dawn looked a little awkward. "Um, I talked to Janice about twenty minutes ago and she asked me to go roller-skating with her today. Nathan McAllister is going to be there. Can I go? Please?"

Buffy and Giles looked at each other for a long moment, then Giles opened his wallet, stepped around the counter and handed Dawn a twenty dollar note, making her eyes light up.

"Take your cell phone and make sure it's turned on," he told her. "And make sure at least some of that contributes to you a eating a nutritious lunch."

Dawn rolled her eyes but she was smiling. After a beat, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?" she asked, before bouncing back and grinning even more widely.

It was so unexpected that Giles blinked and forgot to close his mouth. Then he turned red and half-smiled. "Well, of course I love you too," he said gruffly. "Just be careful and don't lose that money."

Dawn giggled, too pleased to argue, even about being spoken to like a six year old. "I promise." She turned to her sister. "I'll call on the cell when I'm leaving to come home."

Buffy nodded. It was an unwritten Summers law, particularly if she was leaving after dark.

Breakfast was subsequently a rowdy, good-natured affair, with a lot of discussion about Nathan McAllister, the rain during the night, whether Giles could roller-skate and what kind of prehistoric skates he had as a boy, and an argument between the sisters about the merits of ice-skating versus roller-skating.

"Thanks," Buffy said quietly as she and Giles did the dishes.

"Mm?"

"For breakfast, and the money...and making Dawn laugh."

He grinned boyishly. "She did rather enjoy the image of me flat on my arse."

She smiled. "I can't believe you went down a hill the first time you ever roller skated."

"I was ten. Ten year old boys are not particularly sane creatures," he said placidly.

"Did the baker get mad after you hit him?"

He chuckled. "I did more than hit him. I cannoned into him at high speed, bounced off his very large belly and ended up...as I told Dawn, flat on my arse. Didn't do his basket of bread much good either. I handed in my skate key after that."

Buffy giggled then grew thoughtful. "I bet little Giles was cute. Do you have any pictures?"

Giles finished washing the last bowl and pulled the plug. "A few."

"Will you show them to me some time?"

He nodded. "One day." He changed the subject. "Since we seem to have the whole day to ourselves now, is there something you'd like to do...?"

"Together? Us?"

"I can go home if you'd prefer..."

Buffy pulled it together then biffed him in the arm.

"Ow."

"Faker," she grinned.

He smiled back at her, before ducking his head and catching her soft lips again for a moment before replying. "There must be something you'd like to do."

Then they seemed to be staring at each other again. Buffy broke the silence first.

"W-what about you? W-what would you like to do with your day?" she asked, her colour high.

It was such an unexpected question, particularly from Buffy, combined with the flush of her cheeks and the look in her eyes, that Giles was momentarily at a loss for words.

"I should like very much to spend it with you," he said quietly and reached out to caress her hair with the backs of his fingers. "But I don't want to rush...us."

She nodded, not wanting anything to spoil this either. For the first time in her life she had a sense, not of walking into the unknown, or stepping off a blind cliff...but of coming home, of her heart finally being in a place that felt warm and secure and safe.

He smiled then. "So, what shall we do? Is there perhaps something special, something that you haven't done in a very long time, that we might do together?"

After a long moment Buffy's eyes lit up.

"Are you really certain about this? I could break a bone...at my age it might not..."

"Did you or did you not say you could do this? I heard you. You said every winter when you were a kid you couldn't wait for the ponds to freeze...whatever happened to 'just like riding a bicycle'?"

"One can break bones falling from one of those as well."

Buffy put her hands on her hips and waited for him to step out onto the smooth surface, half expecting a Jerry Lewis style performance and prepared to rush to his rescue to avoid broken or chipped bones, if necessary.

After a couple more unintelligible mutterings, Giles took the extra couple of ungainly steps from where he'd been sitting to put his skates on, and stepped onto the ice... without so much as a wobble.

When he pushed off and traced a lazy circle around her, before sliding to a smug halt, she rolled her eyes and slid easily across to 'stand' in front of him.

"Smart ass."

He smiled just as smugly. "Who me?" He took her hand and turned her so that they could push off together.

It was still very early, just on opening, and the rink was nearly empty. Fortunately it also seemed to have been recently refrozen, so that it was much smoother than the usual bumpy, chopped-up public surface, much to Buffy's satisfaction.

They skated fluidly around the perimeter, unhindered by the few children and neophytes pottering around the walls, or the small group of teenagers gathered right in the centre of the rink.

Buffy was astonished by Giles' grace and skill, given that he hadn't skated for years and was being asked to do so on pretty crappy rented blades. She was also revelling in his nearness and the way they seemed to be able to read each other when, on their second pass, they moved so that she was skating in the circle of his arm instead of linking fingers at arm's length.

When they eventually slid to a halt again, by silent assent, Buffy skated right up and leaned against his chest.

"I can't believe you're doing this for me."

He slid his arms around her and drew her into the warmth of the cream coloured, cable-knit wool sweater he'd worn for the occasion, over blue jeans.

"Believe it," he said softly. "You look beautiful in that thing."

"It's the last costume mom made for me," she said sadly, smoothing the pale, gossamer green fabric. Good thing I stopped growing by the time I was fourteen." She pirouetted away and began skating figure eights until she'd gained enough speed to do a few simple jumps and turns.

Giles watched appreciatively as her lithe body moved gracefully over the ice, enjoying the view and the performance for some while before pushing off again, himself. Unlike his adventures with roller-skates, his family had him on blades just about from the time he could walk. Skating and tobogganing were the great joys of winter during his childhood, going some way to make up for the dreariness, the cold and the restrictions it put on such sports as football and cricket, not to mention the usual outdoor boyhood mischief.

He didn't know any competition moves, but he had spent time at various intervals in his teens showing off to girlfriends.

Buffy smiled when she felt him slide up beside her and slip an arm easily around her waist. They skated lazy figure eights, swift, exhilarating circuits of the rink and made some ultimately giggling attempts at pairs manoeuvres, the only one actually looking good in execution being holding hands opposite each other and spinning in a circle. Other attempts resulted in first Giles, then Buffy, then both, flat on their backside on the ice and much laughter.

Giles gained his feet first, still chuckling, dug the toe of one of his blades in and extended a hand to her. "We're going to be sore...no, I'm going to be sore tomorrow," he said ruefully, not really regretting a single moment. "I think perhaps some morning tea is in order."

Buffy, well practised, took the hand, came lightly to her own feet and slid forward to curl her arms around his waist again, sighing with pleasure as his automatically wrapped around her and her face snuggled into his sweater.

Giles rested his chin on her hair. "If this is what I get for morning tea, perhaps I should be offering dinner at Alessandro's?" He teased.

Buffy lifted her head almost reluctantly, but grinned. "Alessandro's? God, I've dreamed of going there. Will and I used to make up endless 'Anywhere But Here' scenarios for that place because...hey...it wasn't like we were ever really going to be able to afford to go there." She looked bemused. "I had it bad for George Clooney in leather. For some reason Will really couldn't get past either John Cusack or Xander in a tux."

He chuckled. "I suppose there's some novelty in the formality of the place. I rather liked it."

End part 3